


for i know my transgressions

by ggggnashville



Series: where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. [2]
Category: The Exorcist (TV)
Genre: M/M, and god said it was good, marcus finally pulls his head out of his ass, mouse tells marcus to get his house in order, they fight they kiss they make up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 08:39:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14257122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ggggnashville/pseuds/ggggnashville
Summary: So instead, for the first time in three months, he thinks like an exorcist.





	for i know my transgressions

**Author's Note:**

> i finally did part 2, *john mulaney voice* i also dont want me to be doing what im doing 
> 
> special shout out to emily @Adoxography for helping with titles and for yelling back and forth with me

He realizes he has no idea where to begin. Has no idea how to find Tomas at all. He can see him, sitting in a motel, with red roses in the wallpaper. This is the only vision he’s been given, in that moment when he heard God’s voice again.

He tries to call Bennett, but Bennett doesn’t answer. It doesn’t bode well that Bennett is unreachable, as he’s never unreachable. He’s incessant and maddening, but now there’s only silence. But Marcus doesn’t have the time or the energy to worry about Bennett. So instead, for the first time in three months, he thinks like an exorcist.

He picks up newspapers and looks up articles online, anything that might be a possession. He doesn’t renew his lease, packs up the little that he has into his truck, and makes his way east. He hopes for signs, for God to give him some sort of clue as to if he’s headed in the right direction, but of course it’s never worked like that. Marcus goes to every seedy motel near every potential possession and asks for the man under the fake name he and Tomas used to give. He comes up empty every time.

He asks for help, can’t seem to stop himself. _Please, please, I don’t know where he is,_ he begs, but gets nothing. He tries not to become discouraged, remembering he has been led into action again. Despite his frustrations, despite his discouragement, his anger, Marcus keeps his head down, and keeps himself focused. He draws constantly. Tomas’ face is there again, beautiful and sharp on the page.

He gets as far as Montana when he feels it, sudden and overwhelming, and he knows he’s close. There’s no logical reason to believe so, but he knows. Tomas is a mere hour’s drive away.

He goes north and when he sees the motel listed on the exit sign he knows. His heart begins to beat in a funny way and he swallows hard thinking of what Tomas might say to him, what his face might look like.

He parks the car and goes into the motel’s office, asks for the name he’s given a hundred times. They’re there, in room 103.

Marcus takes a deep breath, tries to steady his shaking hands. He knocks on the door.

Mouse opens the door, her mouth a hard line, and Marcus can’t read her face.

“You’re back,” she says, then smiles, just a little.

“Yeah,” Marcus says. “Guess so.”

“What’s going on?” Marcus hears Tomas’ voice, and his chest tightens. Tomas finally comes into his line of vision. He’s got a busted lip but his eyes. His eyes are hard and dark. He looks at Marcus and his eyebrows pull together, confusion clouding his face. “What are you doing here?” Tomas says, and his voice shakes.

All of the sudden, Marcus can’t come up with an answer. He has a few, but none are appropriate. _I love you, God told me to find you, I missed you._ None of those are answers.

“I…I made a mistake,” Marcus begins. Tomas runs a hand down his face, frustration clear.

“Yes, you did.” Tomas’ mouth is a thin line. He looks away from Marcus quickly. He then goes farther back into the motel room.

“Can I come in?” Marcus asks Mouse, his voice quiet. Mouse sighs then moves her body to allow Marcus to come through the door. Marcus walks inside the room and looks around. Tomas has his things spread out on the bed to the left. His sweatshirt, his rosary, his collar lay across the bed spread. Seeing the items hurts in a very distinct way, hurts Marcus in the very center of himself.

Tomas is pacing. He has his hands on his hips, walking back and forth across the very small and colorless room. He’s shaking his head, and won’t look up from the floor.

“Tomas?” Marcus says, gently. Tomas waves a hand at him without looking up, waving Marcus away. “Tomas.”

“You know what?” Tomas says, finally looking at Marcus. “I can’t do this.” Tomas grabs his coat, his wallet, and the car keys and heads out the door.

Tomas walks quickly and Marcus follows him out the door. “Tomas!” He calls once more, but Tomas doesn’t stop, doesn’t turn. Tomas gets into the truck that he and Marcus bought together and drives away. Marcus feels something churn in his stomach, a relentless anxiety that gnaws at him. Marcus bites at the inside of his cheek and shuts his eyes.

“You need to give him time,” Mouse says, and Marcus turns. She’s got her arms crossed, face expressionless.

“He’s angry,” Marcus says, mostly speaking out loud to himself than to any real point.

“Of course he is. You abandoned him.”

Marcus grinds his teeth out of frustration and doesn’t answer. Instead he turns towards his truck, heels digging into the grass along the side of the road. He almost opens the door of the truck but then stops. He hasn’t showered in days, hasn’t eaten. There’s no point in going anywhere else. He walks back over to Mouse, hands balled into fists.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good,” she says, eyebrows going up, arms still crossed.

Marcus checks into his own room, five rooms down from Tomas. He stands in the shower for a long time, feeling very tired. He rests his head against the tile, the hot water hitting his face, bare shoulders, Tomas’ face bright and clear in the front of Marcus’ mind. Tomas’ face hot with anger.

Marcus collapses into bed early. He wants badly to go back to Tomas’ room. He wants to pound on the door and make him talk. But in the end, he knows Mouse is right. If he pushes, it’ll only further the divide. He sleeps fitfully. He wakes up once and thinks that Tomas is in the room, but he’s not, of course not. Marcus is only dreaming.

 

*

 

In the morning he feels refreshed. Truly rested. He goes to get food and coffee. He thinks about bringing something to Tomas and Mouse, a peace offering, but decides against it. After eating, he pulls back into the parking lot and as he locks the truck, Tomas walks towards him.

“Can I talk to you?” Tomas asks, and this is the face Marcus remembers. An attempt at stern confidence but still a hesitance, waiting for approval. A gentleness about the eyes. Freshly showered, hair still wet. He does need to shave though. He’s so beautiful.

“Yes.” Marcus wants to say a thousand things at once, but he holds his tongue.

“I’m sorry for walking away yesterday. I saw you’re staying here. Could we…?” Tomas gestures towards Marcus’ room. “Yes,” Marcus repeats, tongue feeling heavy. It all feels terribly formal.

He unlocks the door to his room and steps inside. Tomas follows him in and the door clicks shut.

Tomas walks towards Marcus, stands not a foot away. In Marcus’ most crazed and demented fantasies he has waited for this moment. He has thought endlessly of taking Tomas’ face in his hands and running his hands through his hair, kissing him even, in these fantasies. Now, he watches him, unsure of everything. Unsure of the distance between them, unsure of if he should even speak. His breath catches in his chest.

“So you’re back,” Tomas says, laughing lightly, clearly nervous. Marcus laughs too. He’s never been so unsure before. For all the fighting he’s done his whole life, this is the person he’s apparently ready to give it up for.

“I am.” 

“How did you find us?”

“Looked for possessions,” Marcus says, and laughs a little.

“Of course.”

“Can’t believe it worked actually.”

This surprisingly elicits a laugh out of Tomas, and Marcus’ entire body feels warm.

“I’m…I’m glad it did,” Tomas says. His eyes are so large, so open.

“Me too. You look good.”

“I do?” Tomas says, then laughs again, looking at the floor.

“Yeah, maybe you need a shave but,” Marcus says, trying to joke.

“I wasn’t okay,” Tomas says abruptly. He’s serious now, eyes like cement. “I’m not okay.”

Marcus watches him, then lets his eyes dart around the room, his discomfort palpable. Marcus runs a hand through his hair, trying to come up with an answer. “I--” Marcus begins, but Tomas puts a hand up, cutting him off.

“I’m not.” Tomas laughs, licks his lips. “I’m not.”

“Tomas,” Marcus says, the breath leaving his body. “Tomas I’m sorry.”

“You left. And you are here now. What do you want of me?”

Tomas watches Marcus like he’s watching something that might attack him. His eyes are wet, his hands balled into fists.

“I don’t want anything of you, I’m the one who had to leave!” Marcus says, and feels himself breaking an incredible amount.

“No, you ran away, you run away when you’re scared.”

“I don’t need to hear what Mouse thinks,” Marcus says, and Tomas gives him a look that is so hurt and angry that Marcus feels like he’s been thrown across the room. Marcus has never seen Tomas like this. He feels sick, mainly because he knows he’s right.  “Why are you even here if I’m such a coward?” Marcus says darkly, anger clouding his judgment.

“I don’t know,” Tomas says, suddenly the anger and fight drained from him. He shrugs, then turns towards the door and leaves.

 

*

 

Tomas leaves, and Marcus collapses onto the bed. He fists the sheets, wants to punch the mattress, wants to shout into the pillows. He’s finally found him and Marcus finds he can’t even speak, can’t even make him stay long enough to string a coherent sentence together. He doesn’t understand what’s wrong with him, he feels wild and suffocated. He watches the walls for some time, the minutes falling past him, and then he gets up, puts on his jacket, and gets in the truck.

He finds an absolute shit hole in the wall a few miles up the road. Marcus tries very hard not to think about how he and Tomas used to stop in places just like this. Marcus sits down at the bar and orders whiskey, just like he used to when he felt dead to the world. Dead to Tomas, dead to God.

He’s got no reason to be acting out like this. Tomas is angry, of course he is, Marcus doesn’t know what he expected. A fucking welcome back party, Tomas ready to forget anything ever happened? It’s ridiculous, childish even. He sips the drink slowly at first, then he grows impatient and slams the liquid back, letting it burn his throat. He orders another quickly and watches the television play a football game, mindlessly watching, unaware of anything else around him, letting himself give up quietly.

“Shot of gin,” a voice to his left says. A familiar voice, impossible to ignore. Mouse sits down next to him and even has the audacity to smile at him. The shot is placed in front of her and she throws it back immediately and easily.

“So,” she starts, after ordering a second shot. “Here we are.”

“Here we are,” Marcus parrots, rubbing at the back of his skull. He lets out a small giggle, enamored by her no-nonsense ease.

“For the record, I stopped being angry with you a long time ago.”

“Obviously,” Marcus says, then really laughs.

“But you are a bit of an idiot. I can’t believe I have to be the one to have this conversation. Can you explain to me why men insist on being so stupid so often?”

She’s joking, but also not really.

“We can’t help it, it’s just our nature.”

“Marcus. We’re too old to be doing this,” Mouse says, but she’s smiling, something Marcus hasn’t seen her do in twenty years. She’s grown so much, he realizes he adores her, or, adores parts of her, because when it comes down to it he knows they agree on almost nothing.

“I’m aware darling. To be fair, I never got to experience the heartache appropriately in my teen years so I’m making up for lost time.”

“You need to talk to him.”

“I tried, it didn’t go very well.”

“Try harder.”

Marcus turns toward her and Mouse leans her elbows against the bar. He feels angry with her, but angry in general too. Doesn’t seem fair for her to say something so fixed.

“I should tell you,” Mouse continues, “or maybe I shouldn’t. I don’t know. He probably wouldn’t like it. But I’ll tell you anyway. He didn’t do well after you left.”

Marcus rolls his eyes and sips his drink but Mouse presses forward, her distaste for Marcus’ avoidance clear.

“He wouldn’t talk. I had to watch him eat to make sure he was, he would leave at night for long periods so I had no idea if he was sleeping.” Marcus feels his chest tighten. Of all the times Tomas had made Marcus eat, sleep, looked after him as if he were a child. “When you left he told me, ‘he does things like this, he’ll be back,’ and I had to convince him otherwise. Of course, after a few days he realized his mistake.”

“Which was?”

“Trusting you not to abandon him.”

“I didn’t leave him alone--” Marcus begins, but Mouse cuts him off.

“He doesn’t need me, he needs you. Sound familiar?”

Marcus rubs at his eyes.

“He was right,” Marcus mumbles, feeling beyond tired. “I run when I’m scared.”

Mouse puts a hand on Marcus’ shoulder, leaves it there for the briefest of moments, and then places it back on the bar. Marcus figures that’s about as warm as she gets.

They share a few more drinks, probably too many, and Marcus even gets a laugh out of Mouse. The woman he knew is hiding down there somewhere, a small flutter, but it’s like getting to know a new person, for both of them. Marcus has one too many glasses of whiskey, and Mouse leaves before him.

“You gonna head home?”

“I’ll be along soon.”

“Are you going to talk to him?”

“Not tonight. I’m too drunk.”

This elicits another laugh from her, and as she leaves she doesn’t look back.

When Marcus finally crawls into bed, wrung out and foolishly hopeful, his last thought is of Tomas’ face, colored with a quiet rage threatening to spill over.

*

 

Marcus wakes up with a pounding head and a dry mouth. He slowly remembers his conversation with Mouse and lets out a laugh to himself, running a hand down his face. He thinks: _my life becomes more ridiculous with each passing day,_ and pushes himself off of the too stiff motel’s mattress.  


Marcus takes a long shower. He hasn’t had the luxury of doing this since he left to find Tomas. When he gets out of the shower he even trims his facial hair, to his own surprise. He leaves his room and goes in search of coffee, bringing cups back for Mouse and Tomas, a peace offering to both of them. They deserve it for putting up with him for so long.

When Mouse opens the door she gives Marcus a smile, like they now have a little secret, and Marcus supposes they do, in a way. Tomas only nods solemnly, not looking Marcus in the eye.

“I got a call from Bennett. We’re leaving tomorrow. A bad case in New York. You can come if you like.”

“I’m not an exorcist anymore,” Marcus says, the words feeling heavy in his throat.

Mouse shrugs and says nothing else. Tomas keeps his eyes on the stained carpet.

Marcus spends the day watching Tomas and Mouse pack. Marcus sketches while they move around him. Marcus tries very hard not to notice and stare at everything Tomas is doing, every time he brushes past him from his perch on the twin sized bed. Tomas looks so wrung out, but still so beautiful. His hair is getting long. Marcus used to touch Tomas so often, trying to provide comfort without a second thought. Now his desire to touch him puts him on edge, and makes Marcus feel as though at any moment Tomas will disappear.

Marcus doesn’t have anything to pack. It’s all already in his truck. He has told himself that though he will not be participating in any more exorcisms, he can’t leave Tomas again. It isn’t a possibility.

As the day turns to evening, clouds roll in. The sky turns grey, and out of the corner of his eye Marcus watches Tomas gently tuck his rosary into his bag, his hands rough and shaky.

 

*

 

Marcus leaves Tomas and Mouse’s room to grab a change of clothes. A storm has started, and Marcus makes a dash to the truck, getting soaked along the way. He sits in the driver’s seat and closes his eyes, only listening to the rain hit the roof of the truck. It’s calming. He lets out a sigh, and then inhales sharply in surprise as he hears the passenger door open.

Marcus opens his eyes and sees Tomas sitting next to him. He’s dripping wet and breathing hard, but his eyes are determined. He nods at Marcus, mouth a firm line.

It’s raining. Hard. The truck is shaking with it, and Marcus can barely make out Tomas’ face in the dim light of the motel parking lot.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Marcus says. Not a question.

“Yes,” Tomas replies, not bothering to deny it.

“Why?”

Tomas runs a hand through his hair and sighs.

“When you left…I was not doing well.” Tomas begins with a hesitance, like he’s racking his memory trying to make it all make sense. “I was very angry. I was angry that you had left. I was angry because I could not work with Mouse. We lost the first one. We haven’t lost any since, but I found it so difficult to communicate with her. You know, you and I had a very different approach.”

Marcus nods. He had wondered, but had tried not to think about it too much. Couldn’t afford to.

“When you left it took me a while to stop being angry. Then when I was done being angry I missed you. That didn’t ever go away.” Tomas finally risks a glance up at Marcus’ face, shy. Marcus exhales, feeling raw. “I made her wait a few days before we went on to the next one. I should have listened to her.”

Marcus pictures it then: Tomas and Mouse fighting, her hard logic saying that they’re wasting time and Tomas, far too hopeful, so much so that it makes him naïve, insisting they stay.

“I’m sorry,” Marcus says, and though he wants to reach out to Tomas, he doesn’t. He’s tested Tomas enough, and though in the past it had been welcome, he can’t be sure now. “I didn’t want to leave. I was afraid.”

“Afraid of me?” Tomas asks, and his eyes are so big, so open, so vulnerable.

“Yes,” Marcus says, but he says it so softly he wonders if he said it at all.

“Why?”

Marcus feels so tired, so frustrated that Tomas shouldn’t know why.

“Because I chose to end an innocent man’s life to ensure that you wouldn’t have that damned thing in your head. It went against everything I’ve ever believed. Because of how I care for you. That is far too dangerous.”

This time, Tomas reaches for Marcus. He puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes.

“I meant what I said before. I don’t know how to do this without you. I don’t _want_ to do this without you. And I hope…I hope that you care for me the same way I care for you.” Tomas’ hand trails up, and he cups the side of Marcus’ face. Marcus closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing.

“What are you saying?” He keeps his eyes shut as he speaks, too afraid of what Tomas’ face might look like.

There’s a shuffling of clothes, and to Marcus’ utter shock Tomas presses his lips to the side of his face. Marcus inhales sharply, then forces himself to open his eyes.

Tomas is sitting in the passenger seat looking shier than he ever has, looking like he’s readying himself for a slap.

“Please tell me I’m not making a fool of myself,” Tomas says. Marcus scoffs, feeling his chest tighten.

“No, no, never.” There’s lead in his mouth, on his chest, and when he blinks, Marcus can tell he’s quite possibly going to cry. His entire body feels funny, something like being drunk and anxious at the same time. Marcus reaches out and finally runs his thumb across Tomas’ cheekbone. “No.” He leans over further still and kisses Tomas’ jawline. His heart is beating so quickly it’s near nauseating. Tomas reaches up and places his hand on the back of Marcus’ neck.

Marcus gets carried away. He kisses Tomas’ forehead, and then moves to kiss the side of his mouth, going for completely chaste, but Tomas moves at the same time, and any ideas of chaste are pushed aside.

It takes a few moments for Marcus’ mind to catch up with him. He pulls back as gently as he can. “Tomas,” Marcus says, hardening his tone, trying to sound like he means it. Marcus may not be, but Tomas is still a priest.

“Follow me,” Tomas says, and he opens the door of the truck. It’s still pouring, but Marcus gets out anyway, steps into the rain and lets himself become drenched.

They rush over to the motel room, Tomas for a moment struggling with the key. Inside, with no lights on, with the rain creating a rhythm against the roof, it is entirely peaceful. Marcus slides out of his jacket and it hits the floor with a wet thud.

Neither of them turn on a light. They hardly move. Marcus can hear Tomas breathing next to him. Marcus feels wild, intense, like if he makes any sudden movements he’ll shatter. Tomas finally steps towards Marcus and takes his hand, threading their fingers together. He pulls Marcus backwards, just a few steps, and they sit on the edge of the bed. “Can I,” Tomas says, trailing off, resting a hand on Marcus’ knee. He’s so close, so warm. Marcus presses his nose against Tomas’ temple.

“You took vows, that still matters,” Marcus says.

“So do you,” Tomas replies, but he doesn’t move. He’s waiting. Marcus doesn’t have a response. There’s nothing logical he can come up with anymore, not when he’s this tired and this in love and so, so close to getting what he wants.

Marcus puts his palm against Tomas’ face, curling a finger around the shell of his ear. Tomas turns his face, then softly kisses Marcus’ palm. It’s such a gentle gesture, something so small yet so telling, and Marcus finally, for the first real time, allows himself to break.

He runs his thumb over Tomas’ bottom lip, feels desire curling up inside him so distinctly he wants to cry out. Though he can only make out the outlines of Tomas’ face in the dark he thinks _this is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen._ He lowers his hand and then kisses Tomas, and Tomas kisses back. Marcus finds he doesn’t feel guilty in the slightest.

Marcus spends the first few moments simply trying to wrap his head around the fact that he’s kissing Tomas. He feels Tomas squeeze his thigh, and Marcus lets out a soft sigh. He feels abruptly a sharp embarrassment, realizing he’s never done this before. He’s kissed a few, but not like this. Not with so much need. Marcus brushes his fingers through Tomas’ hair, over the outlines of his face. Tomas is still wet with rain water, and it’s so dark, but Tomas asks “Can I touch you?” and Marcus laughs, too nervous to come up with a proper answer. He kisses Tomas’ temple and feels Tomas’ eyelashes against his cheek. He feels drunk with it, unbearably in love.

“Is this okay?” Tomas asks, and Marcus realizes he never answered the first time. He nods, kisses Tomas’ neck. “Yes. Yes. But I’ve never. I’ve not done this before.”

Tomas runs his hands down Marcus’ arms and holds him at the elbows, then tilts his head, watching Marcus.

“Never?”

“No, no,” Marcus whispers, and tries to joke it off. “Still all pure and chaste.”

Tomas doesn’t laugh with him. Instead he places his hand on the back of Marcus’ neck and moves his hand from Marcus’ thigh back down to his knee.

“What do you want?” Tomas asks. “I mean, should I stop?”

“I haven’t the faintest, love,” Marcus mumbles, shaking his head.

Tomas kisses Marcus’ neck, kind and reassuring.

“Tell me,” he whispers against Marcus’ ear. “Tell me.”

Marcus, feeling so vulnerable he wants to crawl out of his skin, does the only thing he knows can be right. He holds Tomas’ face in his hands and kisses him, over and over.

“You, I want you.” Marcus is clueless, feels his face flush but pushes forward. “God, do I want you.” Hearing himself, the way the words are coming out, he sounds so desperate, and he doesn’t feel ashamed, it’s just too true. And it seems to work, because Tomas makes a breathy, frantic noise and Marcus feels the desire coil up inside him again.

Tomas’ hands are under Marcus’ shirt, and his hands are so warm, so gentle, Marcus wants to cry with relief.

Marcus reaches up to Tomas’ neck and undoes the collar, the irony not lost on him. He tries to unbutton Tomas’ shirt, but his hands are shaking, and they both end up laughing at each other’s nerves.

“I’m rubbish at this,” Marcus says, finally undoing the third button.

“No,” Tomas says, white teeth gleaming in the darkness. “No, you’re perfect.”

“Shut it.”

Marcus kisses Tomas and pushes his shirt off his shoulders. Tomas pushes Marcus’ shirt up over his shoulders, over his neck, and Marcus finds himself half naked. He’s so thin around the ribcage, and he doesn’t allow himself to think about his skin, riddled with scars from a lifetime of exorcisms.

They fall back together seamlessly, chest to chest, and it would feel overwhelming, would feel suffocating but Tomas keeps asking “Okay?” To which Marcus can only nod, eagerly kissing Tomas, lacing their hands together, allowing himself pleasure and allowing himself to be swallowed whole by it.

 

In the morning light, Tomas’ face is soft and smooth. He breathes evenly against Marcus’ body. Marcus is torn between wanting to touch him and fear of waking him when he looks so peaceful. Eventually, Marcus lays back down against the mattress, closes his eyes, and thinks _thank you_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i told someone like 4 months ago i was writing a part 2 and i feel like ive lied so here it is! here is...something!! i dont even recall writing this i think i blacked out and then here we are so......Cool 
> 
> also, as far as the series title, the whole verse is:  
> "But Ruth replied, "Don't urge me to leave you or to turn back from you. Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God." so, have fun, with that like i did
> 
> find me at: blairwiches dot tumblr dot com


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